The Price of Living
by Golden-Geared-Wings
Summary: Ep. 5x07 AU: Damon arrives just in time, stopping Amara from killing herself. However, with Silas and Qetsiyah gone, she questions if she should still be here. Fortunately, she might just find a friend in the blue-eyed Salvatore that saved her life, as well as the doppelganger he calls his girlfriend. Platonic Damara, Delena mainpair (Rewrite of The Alternate Destiny I Was Given)
1. Love like a storm

**Hey, I'm back on for the first time in a while with the revamped version of my previous story "The Alternate Destiny I was Given"!** **Yeah, it's definitely been too long.**

 **If this is your first time reading this series, the long story short version is that it's an AU where Amara survives the events of "Death and the Maiden" and hangs out with the MF gang. Literally no other explanation other than I loved her character and potential and I thought the show wasted a good opportunity with her. Especially in the scenes they gave her with Damon only for them to go _nowhere whatsoeve r._**

 **However, if you've read TADIWG, the last two author's notes (ch. 11-12) explain my reasons for delaying this story for as long as I did and where I plan to go with this. :)**

 **Anyway, onto the story~!**

* * *

The ones that carefully placed that nimble, small framed body in that crate, and left her as storage thought she was just a statue. A graven image as meaningless as the frivolous affair of relocating it.

A slab of stone, perfectly molded into a beautiful girl…one could swear it could just open its eyes and walk around. But still, they brushed it off - brushed _her_ off - as an insignificant piece of artwork. To be placed in a New Jersey private storage, untouched and forgotten. After all, it was just a job. A mere insignificant task, blind eyes turned, no questions asked.

But did they never truly wondered about the girl trapped in the stone, did they? The girl that loved, and was tormented in the name of that love? The girl fallen prey to desire? The poor naïve young maiden that was tempted by cruel passion?

No, of course they didn't. They wouldn't. The sorceress she once called her friend had ensured that.

And so she suffered.

Suffered immobile for two thousand years, aware of every millisecond of pure agony that had passed her by, not even sparing so much as a pitiful glance.

Not even the endless souls that pass through her knew of her pain. The girl that was left eternally blind, eternally mute.

The girl that could not weep, cry, nor scream.

This was truly a version of hell worthy of being called such.

Even Death itself had ignored her desperation, even as she tried welcoming it with open arms. The forbidden fruit it could touch not, Death made no attempts on her life. It had left her to the mercies of her suffering, the only being not allowed to touch her.

This was Quetsiyah's eternal satisfaction. Everlasting vengeance at her own expense. Immortality was acquired, but she would suffer through every second. Forever. _It hurts so much, it just hurts, oh god, oh god, ohgodohgodohgod…._

She could no longer think for herself, at least not of anything except the pain. Not of Silas, not of Quetsiyah, nothing. No one.

And the two thousand years she has spent here? Insignificant. Nowhere remotely close to the endless pain filled sentence she still had to endure. Time has no meaning here, not one remotely significant meaning.

Something she and time had in common, she mused. They were both negligible. They were the dew that gathered on the grass without anyone knowing, without anyone caring. Because the inevitable truth was that no one gave a damn.

And she was completely and utterly alone.

 _Always alone. Always…always…_

For two millenniums, she could feel everything she could not see. Her nerves were overactive by this point, preparing her body for the excruciating pain that mentally brought her to her knees. So she was well aware of what she would feel when a soul would pass through. Hell, she was her own eyewitness to it. There was absolutely no way of avoiding it.

There would always be the pain, and so the only way she could pass time is to count her own heartbeats between souls. Sometimes they came all at once, barely giving her racing heart a second to have a reprieve. Sometimes it took several hundred heartbeats before she even felt the impression of a hand of the soul she could get a glimpse of in her mind's eye before they passed over. She never forgot a face...and she happened remember all the dead ones, these days.

And so the pattern went on. The pounding in her chest was the only proof she still lived, and the pain she could still contemplate was the only thing she could feel. That was the only system she had. The only thing she had left in this cruel, merciless world.

* * *

"Think about it, Damon," Tessa spoke in a reprimanding monotone, like she was unimpressed that he hadn't already figured it out, "The Travelers aren't fans of immortality. I had to bind the Other Side to something that would last forever, something Silas couldn't destroy." She sounded almost amused with the concept, he could swear she was probably rubbing her hands together deviously.

"What, his favorite childhood sled?" Damon asked meaning to be joking, although at this point, he was just too tired and frustrated to put any more effort into looking for that all powerful anchor.

If only she would actually give him the answer instead of playing the pronoun game him.

"Something a little closer to his heart," He wasn't mistaken, that was definitely amusement now. "Two thousand years old, immortal, indestructible. You're a quick boy, Damon. Figure it out." She hung up on him, leaving him to stew with that little significant cliffhanger she had presented to him.

Silas pulled and tore at the hinges of a tall, and otherwise untouched crate. He didn't know why, but this crate in particular gave out a sort of air of importance. _Perhaps the anchor?_

"No way."

"What?" Jeremy asked, confused as to what left the vampire dumbfounded.

"Not possible," a stunned Damon spoke in grim realization, "Tessa may be insane, but she's a bona fide _genius_." His blue eyes were widened in astonishment, his brows furrowed. It was all coming together, the pieces fit too perfectly to neglect this. He spoke again, still not looking at Jeremy. "Two thousand years old. Immortal. Indestructible..."

"The anchor isn't a thing. It's a _person_."

Silas had succeeded in unhinging the front of the crate. He tossed the wooden frame aside as he gave the crate a questionable glance. There was quite a bit of straw in there, he reached his hand in. He grabbed handfuls of it and discarded it onto the floor.

His fingers came into contact with stone as he continued removing the excess straw. _Who on earth would go through this trouble to hide a_ statue _?_

 _It seems we finally have a winner,_ Silas thought, as he dislodged the straw from the anchor. This was it, after all these years, he would finally get the chance to reunite with the only person he ever truly cared about. The only thing that seperated him from her was this-

He stopped in his tracks.

Now that he had a better look at the statuesque anchor, the felt like he was just...

He couldn't believe his eyes, there was no way...his eyes _had_ to be deceiving him...! That had to be the explanation for this. But still, the resemblance was way too close for him to disregard. He couldn't ignore the face of his only love resting within the box he tore apart...

"Amara..."

 _For two millenniums, she could feel everything she could not see. Her nerves were overactive by this point..._

"She never killed Amara." Damon turned to glance at Jeremy, and gave him a smirk that mirrored the grim look in his eyes.

* * *

Countless times she felt her heartbeat through her fingertips, her neck, and her ears. Countless times until she felt something other than her own blood at her lips. Something other than her own blood pulsing through her body. _It's a trick, a jest of liars, all the liars, don't believe them._

But her lips that were sealed together by stone were…softening against this unknown substance until she could actually…open her lips for the first time. For the first time in what felt like forever, she could feel her lips open. She could feel this warm liquid fall into her mouth, and so she swallowed in large gulps. _Oh, it feels good, it feels so good…Oh, sweet ecstasy…._

And it wasn't just her lips that were reviving. Slowly, she could feel her fingers receiving some mobility after being sealed against her chest for so long. Within seconds, she felt the stone release its tight grasp against her arms until she had complete control of her left arm and could cradle the source of melodious moisture closer to her lips.

She could feel the last bits of stone tearing itself off of her back, so she could arch her neck downward towards the source. She felt her hair fall softly against her back, and even her dress was no longer strangling her body with stone. The last bits were disappearing from her face…

"…mara….it's me…"

This sound was so faint in her ears, she almost didn't hear it. She almost didn't let herself believe it, two thousand years and her mind was still playing tricks on her. The mind is the cruelest enemy, it quickly became mine. She nearly let herself believe that it vaguely sounded like…a voice…?

 _Impossible…So many voices now, and some sound more alike than others…_

The hardened clay around her eyes quickly lessened until it finally perished out through her eyelashes.

For the first time in two millenniums her doe brown eyes opened to the new world she didn't recognize in the slightest…

The stone that covered her from head to toe was gone, her body suddenly felt oddly indecent, almost naked without it. Amara couldn't even keep her eyes open for longer than a few seconds. The light she had spent her life hiding from was blinding to her eyes, no matter how dim it may be. _Like a warrior's sword sheathed for far too long, its wielder knows not what is to be done with the tool, rendering it a hopeless endeavor…_

Her entire body was sore, and she was breathing in large gasps of air as if she would never breathe again. She felt like every step she took was like she was a newly born lamb taking its first small hoof steps towards either the loving side of the mother, or the butcher. Likely the latter.

She was forced from the shadows into light, and the effects were overwhelming her. _Everything hurts, It's hurting me, where have I gone?_ Being woken up from a life of painful lucid dreaming was one thing, but now her body was still too heavy. She should have dropped to the ground but somehow she was…floating. Or rather, some external force was lifting her up as if by a divine entity that was taking her somewhere safer. Where she would never be embraced by the vile fingers of pain, emotionally or physically.

"You're okay," There was that voice again, she thought.

It was surely a comforting figure, that the person cradling her frame wasn't trying to cause her pain, but she thought better of it. She had stood upon and lost hope in rescue a long time ago. She would be constrained to abide by her naivety until the end of time. _Time as neglected as I am, and yet still remains constant to turn a blind eye._

"Go away," Amara barely got out a whisper, in fear of and in too much agony to acknowledge the person breathing against her ear any further. "Go away, leave me alone…" She attempted to push the vocal force away from her.

"No, no, no. It's okay…" The voice spoke in a sort of compassion, patience such as a father would use to frighten away their child's nightmares, no matter how frustrating the child. "Who are you talking to, huh? It's me…it's me…."

 _So many voices, so many voices, and yet the lone one hither speaks as_ … "S-Silas…?"

"It's me…" His voice was clearer to her now as he repeated his comforting words. _Is he…?_

"How is this possible…?" Amara inquired, whispering. Her head leaned on his supporting shoulder, and she spoke softly in a more controlled voice. "How are you here? After all this time…" He stopped in place as he tried to get her on her feet next to what she assumed to be a metallic crate, and she leaned her left arm against it. She tried to calm her breathing.

"I thought you were dead," Silas informed her behind her head, trying to cover up the hint of regret she heard in his tone. "Tessa said she killed you." _Tessa?_ "She held your heart in her hands…" _Does he mean Qetsiyah?_

"She lied," Amara explained as calmly as she could as she turned to face him, "She couldn't kill me, there was only one cure…" Her voice grew weaker with the grief, "She wanted it for you…" Her eyes turned away from his, and trailed down his body, still debating whether this was a dream, or if anything else was even a reality.

"I took it…" Her eyes came to meet his slowly this time, his eyebrows furrowed in shame and dark green eyes filled with so much pain.

"I'm sorry," he said, "I wanted to be with you, I wanted to be at peace with you."

"The cure runs through your veins," She deduced in a whisper, searching his face, that shame filled expression she wished she could erase from his visage.

"I was ready to die for you."

Amara sighed, closing her eyes in understanding and put her arms around him trying to comfort him as much as she could as he did the same. She opened her eyes over his shoulder and noticed some broken glass scattered on the flattened cardboard on the dumpster. She released one of her arms from Silas' back and reached for one of the larger shards.

"I love you, Silas," She told him as her hand clenched the shard and brought it closer to his back. She grabbed it with her other hand as her left curved around Silas' neck. He still embraced her lovingly.

"I'm so sorry," She whispered in his ear and before she could even stop to see him react, she thrust the glass in the side of his neck in one swift motion. She heard him gasp.

"I have to be cured…" She grasped his hair tightly and brought her mouth to the wound, rubbing her teeth against it so she could receive as much of the cure from his blood as possible. He gasped further in pain as she drank. She swallowed in large gulps until she felt like she had enough to give her a human lifespan.

Amara released her lips from his neck, and Silas groaned painfully. She stepped back, taking his face into hers. His eyes were closed, and his head swayed a bit. He opened his eyes, but they involuntarily wouldn't meet her face.

"I can't live…another day…" Her bloodstained lips spoke and her eyes looked at him nervously as her breathing quickened.

Silas released his hold on her, falling to the blood loss and that was when she ran. Granted, she was nowhere close to the right state of mind to plan her escape. There were so many wooden crates around her and they confused her plans of searching for escape routes. _Where do I go, where are the doors…? My head hurts so much…_

Her body wasn't faring well either, she kept stumbling with no sense of direction, and her back gave up on standing her completely straight up. Her knees were begging to give out beneath her, but she would still proceed.

And then she heard things again. The voices of the dead and damned, and they reprimanded her for infinite amount of things, it seemed. They questioned her love for the man she stabbed in the neck, and they scolded her for wanting to embrace death when she still held the Other Side in her hands.

" _Stop_ talking…" She tried to silence the head- splitting voices. She rested her back against a crate for a few seconds, breathing heavily, and closing her eyes until she willed herself to go on. "It's not up to you…!" She tripped over her own feet. " _Leave me alone-!"_ She shouted, but her voice dwindled down to a whisper again,. "Leave me alone, leave me alone," she repeated over and over, aloud and internally, frightened of the noise, scared of her surroundings, and terrified she would faint now. "Leave me alone! I said- leave me alone…"

She placed her hands against her head, and she tried to keep herself standing with every bump against her back and contact she made with her fingers. _If only everything would just stop spinning…God, go away…!_

Her eyes kept searching around the unfamiliar place, across the wooden crates and boxes for any exit whatsoever. Her eyes kept roaming, roaming, until they swiftly made contact with something, at someone in front of her, and the voices finally stopped.

She stopped and stood in place so that she could see more clearly.

It was a man in front of her. He had short black hair that fell against alabaster skin. His face looked like what a sculptor could only _dream_ to even come close to creating. His widened eyes were a light color, although she couldn't tell in the dim lighting exactly what color. He was wearing some kind of outfit that was unrecognizable, but he had a strong build, she thought.

He didn't look like anyone she recognized from the Other Side. He didn't _look_ like everyone else.

Amara's eyes gave him a glance upward and downward. "Are you real?" she asked him in a somewhat stronger voice than when she was with Silas, but soft enough so she didn't feel like she would offend him. She took a step closer to look at him closely.

His eyes still stared at her in confusion, and he spoke in a voice that was somewhat more calming in her ears. "Are you?"

She inhaled and exhaled carefully.

* * *

He thought he would be used to this by now.

In his entire existence, he had met that face twice on two entirely different women, centuries apart. And he had kept his composure even when he came to this realization three years ago: that these two were not the same person.

However, this was not one of those times. Amara's presence shocked him in a way it hadn't with Elena before. But it didn't make sense to him. He had already been aware that the Petrova doppelgänger lineage were all tracked down to the very girl that stood before him. So he thought he had known what to expect when he had realized that she had been the anchor to the Other Side.

Except that he hadn't. Damon was stunned, to say the least. He wasn't sure if it was because he'd already seen this coming, and he was so sure that he knew what to expect... why did he feel this way?

Katherine had been the promise of adventure, of a world and life he couldn't begin to imagine for his human self.

Elena had been the promise of interest, the hook that ultimately led him to have his way with Mystic Falls again. Which little did he know would eventually become the end to a century of hate and boredom, the beginning of redemption.

Amara on the other hand? He had no idea…

She had come stumbling about, bloodstained mouth mumbling mantras of "leave me alone" and "go away", and it looked like she was running away from something. His first guess was that Silas had been the perpetrator behind her fear, but no one seemed to be trailing behind her or chasing her down. She was frantically searching around until her eyes had fallen upon him and she stopped in her tracks, a few paces in front of him.

From the looks of it, his presence threw Amara for a loop as well. He watched as she studied him with seemingly innocent curiosity. She asked if he was real.

He replied, "Are _you_?"

She breathed carefully as she stared at him, either misunderstanding his question or not listening. Amara shook her head, and willed herself to look at his face.

"Wh-Who are you…?" She asked nervously, confusedly. She tried to step closer to Damon, but she tripped over on wobbly legs and fell on her knees. He stepped over and helped her to her feet, supporting her upper body with his left arm.

He quickly surveyed the area to be sure Silas wasn't within earshot. When he was positive that it was all clear, he advanced forward taking Amara to the car.

"Trust me, you'd be better off not knowing the answer to that," Damon responded to her earlier question. He wanted to be sure exactly what happened to her before he loaded her with unnecessary or overwhelming information. "You have to listen to me, okay? Stay with me, stay with me…" He shook her gently when she looked like she would pass out in his arms. "What's your name?" He already knew the answer to that, but he wanted to be sure _she_ still did.

"A-Amara…" Good, he thought.

"That's good, that's good. Hey," He was halfway to the car now, "Hey, do you remember someone named Silas? Yeah?" She nodded her head, "Okay, do you know where he is right now?" From her blood stained lips, though, he probably had a good guess.

"I-I…I don't…" Amara shook her head, shutting her eyes tightly. Her legs were wobbling beside his, so he bent down and put his right arm behind her legs before scooping her up and carrying her rest of the way. He rested her head on his chest for more comfort.

"It's alright," He told her, "Can you tell me what happened to you?" He asked, even though he had a pretty good idea of what she would have gone through before Silas woke her up. At least based on the revelation from Tessa implied.

She's the anchor to the Other Side, he knew, And I doubt that she donated her body to the cause willingly. If she was in a New Jersey storage until now, Tessa would have had to…immobilize her somehow, so she wouldn't be dangling the whole supernatural deadman wonderland over her.

"Qetsiyah…" Amara spoke in hushed tone, "…turned to stone and she…Silas…?" Alright, so could pretty much consider his suspicions confirmed, but he still wondered… _What did they do to you?_

"He…I, we…? W-What are you…what are you talking about…?"

They had gotten to the van, and Damon pulled out the keys to open the trunk. Once the trunk door wavered open, he placed Amara in and sat her up as best he could.

"Hey, hey, look at me," He placed his hand against her face and willed her to look at him. He was trying to be considerate to her, and yet he couldn't even tell if he had done or was doing anything that upset her. He wasn't familiar with this at all, he wasn't used to being the supporting type. _Where the hell is Stefan's hero hair when you need it?_

Amara groggily turned her head to stare at him in what looked like some form of skepticism, which was perfectly understandable, he thought. _Two thousand years has to put a damper on one's social skills, but I guess her worry isn't completely unwarranted given my track record._

"You're gonna be fine. We're gonna get you out of here."

* * *

"Stefan Salvatore sleeps in his own bed tonight. Does that mean he stopped hating us, or did the power of the doppelgänger universe push him in the car with you?"

Elena gave a glance to Damon and Jeremy, who obviously heard the questionably friendly sap between her and Stefan. Okay, she guessed she deserved that. She let Tessa reel her in with, in hindsight, a rather obvious ploy and from the way things turned out, nearly screwed up any chance of bringing Bonnie back.

 _I'll admit it, it was dumb to let her bait me like that. And as long as Stefan doesn't remember us, there's not much arguing and screaming is going to do to get him to trust us._

Internally shaking her head at herself, she adjusted her top and walked toward the couch where Damon was sitting.

 _But I wasn't wrong about her being a giant manipulative bitch. Definitely not._

"Well," Elena explained, sitting down next to Damon and crossing her legs, "He, uh, saved my life. So, I'll take that as _not_ hate." She interlaced her fingers and dropped her hands between her legs.

"A victory in a day otherwise marred by failure," Damon sourly commented with a tilt of his bourbon toward Jeremy, who raised his own glass in response. Elena glanced at Jeremy for an explanation.

"We couldn't get Bonnie back," Jeremy bleakly acknowledged her, "I get a pass."

"Did I say anything?" She inquired, feigning offense.

For a few seconds, silence filled the foyer until Jeremy spoke again, suddenly.

"No," he muttered, annoyed, to no one in particular, "No, I won't because it's _not_."

"What?" Damon spoke up, and gave an interrogative look towards Jeremy while Elena had the same amount of confusion on her face.

Jeremy spread his arms in a conceding gesture and smiled sarcastically, "Bonnie's here." Elena's eyes searched the foyer as if she could find some hint of her friend's presence- Jeremy continued, "She wants us not to worry."

"Don't worry, Bonnie," Elena spoke aloud to the air, but she knew she would be heard, "Okay? It's not over." Her eyes wandered to Damon as she said, "We've dealt with much worse."

"Well," Damon spoke soberly, with a no-nonsense tone, "Silas is MIA and out and about, which is pretty bad." He pushed himself of the couch, "And Amara's been cured. Which is even _worse_ , because that means she's easy to kill." His voice rose in a sense of disbelief, "So the fate of the Other Side, which Bonnie currently resides, rests on a living, breathing human that we need to protect."

Elena, who had been staring at the ground while Damon spoke, turned her face to look at him when something he said brought about some questions she should've asked earlier, about the living anchor. " _We_ need to protect?"

Damon put the bottle down on the coffee table and motioned her to follow him. He pulled out his keys from his back pocket and headed toward the front door as Elena got up off the sofa after him. Once outside, Damon lifted up the trunk of a large black van that contained a young woman, tied up and gagged, struggling to get free. Her unbrushed, wild, straight dark hair flew about her, and her legs were tangled within her dark rose colored toga. When the trunk lifted up, her chestnut eyes flew to Elena and widened, horrified.

"Elena," Damon said, "Meet Crazy Pants. Crazy Pants, meet Elena."

Elena stared at Amara in a stunned expression with what felt like a sickeningly familiar sense of déjà vu washing over her. The memory of when she first met Katherine, the unsettling surprise she felt even as she calmly questioned her, flashed through her mind. The irony wasn't even remotely lost on her.

She just never thought she would end up on Katherine's side of that encounter.

The original doppelgänger's response upon meeting her was a petrified shriek through the cloth tied over her mouth.

* * *

 **This probably comes as no surprise, but I'm a total slut for comments. xD So please let me know what you think so far!**


	2. Like an ocean, endless

**A/N: Okay, so this took a hell of a lot longer than I thought it would and for that I would like to apologize. I really struggled with writing this chapter, yeah I get that I was revising something I'd already written, but I like to think that I had improved somewhat since I had initially uploaded this story as "The Alternate Destiny...". I use to think 1K words was long! Now I don't think it's long enough! And this chapter was originally going to be at more than 8k words which is a lot for someone like me, but I wanted to attempt it because I had intentions of doing a chapter per episode kind of pattern.**

 **But with college and writer's block hitting me several times, I had to walk away from this several times. I felt incredibly guilty doing so, because I know I'm already incompetent with updates as it was and I made whoever was a fan of this story before wait on it for pretty much two years now only to be recieving something they've already read before with nothing new really. So for that I am apologizing greatly.**

 **What I've ultimately decided to do is for the chapters I'm keeping somewhat canon compliant to the story, I will be splitting in half. So this is part one of "Death and the Maiden" and chapter 3 is part two. It's really the only way I can make any leeway with this story as I am. Part two is all written out basically I just have to revise it a _lot_. Hopefully that won't take too long, as I do have an upcoming break.**

 **Anyway thank you to everyone who has stuck with this story thus far, and I hope you do like what I've written so far.**

* * *

The dungeon in which they made her sleep that night and the morning after was still a terribly confining space to her. She at least counted her blessings that she was allowed to move this time, she had the option of pacing around. But her hands were still bound behind her back, and no matter how hard she looked at it, she was _still_ very much a prisoner... not just in this place, but the shell of her own body was a man made prison on its own….and it had driven her to insanity for far too long.

Amara felt so stiffened and tense that she half expected to wake up from this delirious dream of her miraculous escape from her stone-like imprisonment. Though even she, scatterbrained as she was right now, couldn't deny the _cold_ , concrete floor beneath her feet...just like she couldn't deny the disembodied voices of the damned that whispered in her ears.

They had been mercifully silent for most of the night, however the idea of shutting her eyes even for a second frightened her. She knew she would still hear them in her _dreams_ , and she didn't believe they would ever leave her alone, no matter how much she pleaded. These voices that made her ears bleed, unyieldingly relentless...

Amara could almost feel their eyes...their _lifeless_ eyes...firmly setting her in their sights. All of a sudden, one by one they started interrogating her again. She was on her feet in an instant, and paced in place as far as this tiny room would let her, trying to force all of them out of her mind. Once again, there were questions she couldn't answer. Questions of her location and the identity of her captors were. Insults were hurled at her like rotten fruit, questions on the fate of the Other Side in the event of her death were predominately of their concern.

"I don't _know_!" She snapped at them, even though she herself didn't believe in the conviction behind her words. "I don't know!" She ran directly to the wall, smacking herself against it with a hard clang! Entertaining the notion if she hurt herself enough, it would eventually drown out the overcrowding voices clamoring for her attention...or she would pass out trying.

"What's wrong with her?" Amara heard some faint murmuring from behind her cellar door. Though she couldn't see who had spoken, a sickly sense of recognition took hold of her, _That voice that sounds like...why must you taunt me like this?!_

She was positive that this was the sign that any plausibly existing god was _laughing_ at her.

"Tessa turned her into a block of rock," Another masculine voice, one of her captors she realized, replied to his companion, "Left her in a box for two thousand years, probably went a little stir crazy like those deserted island guys who talk to volleyballs."

Amara was surprised that she could even barely make sense of what they were saying with every other noise _pounding_ through her brain.

" _I said I don't know_!" She ran at the wall again at full speed with the same result. She was hyperventilating by now, taking shaky, quick breaths simultaneously making herself sick at the same time. She bent her legs to sit on the floor, but straightened herself up when she realized that it was only making it worse.

"So you're telling me," the first one spoke incredulously, "That this _girl_ is the only thing holding together the Other Side?" _But you should know that by now, don't you all know that?_

"Yep," the second replied in a calmer tone, "She's the anchor." _Don't they know that I can hear every word they speak...?_ Apparently not, she thought. Neither two suspected that she, who persistently heard the words and secrets of the dead, could _possibly_ be eavesdropping on them...that or they thought she was too insane to pay them any mind.

It might have been funny to her if she hadn't been trembling in pain at that moment.

" _Leave_...me alone," Amara once again attempted to silence the other whispers against her ears.

"As long as she's alive, the other side exists, and we can keep trying to get Bonnie from over there."

" _I said I don't know!_ " She screamed at the top of her lungs, but she miscalculated her footing and tripped over her own two feet. And again when she tried to stand up without the benefit of her hands. Amara grunted at herself, thinking what foolish sight this must have been. _But fools lose their minds, do they not?_ Death is the mayhaps the most merciful being to a fool that was made foolish with a fickle word such as "love", she mused. In which case, she _was_ , undeniably, that same little fool.

"Well," said the first one, "Considering she's immortal, I'd say we have plenty of opportunity." _No, I'm not...no longer...it worked, didn't it?_

"You'd think," replied the second, dejectedly, "Except last night she stuck a hole in Silas' neck, sucked the cure right out of him, so now she's not only nuts, she's mortal, which means we have to keep her ordinary little human heart beating until we get Bonnie back."

 _…So that's their ultimate goal?_ She thought. T _hey have summoned me back for their opportunity to play god? Is_ this _really that important to them…?_

No. It didn't matter. She didn't care who this Bonnie was, Amara did not desire to humor this pandemonium for however long they wanted. She refused to add even a few hours on her limited lifespan just so she could be a tool for someone else.

 _Never again. Not ever, they'll just have to make do with my corpse for all I care..._

Amara frantically looked around the room for anything sharp she could use, furiously trying to rub the pieces of rope the bound her wrists against each other. It would have had to come loose from the amount of pressure she was putting, especially with the scratchy material against her small, fragile hands gripping against-

She felt the bonds loosen on her wrists.

"How would you plan to do that?"

"Silas made a pinky promise that he'd do a spell to bring her back. Unfortunately, he's taking his sweet time coming back to Mystic Falls."

Once Amara's hands were free, she immediately brought both wrists near her mouth and without hesitation, roughly bit down on them until they started bleeding. She did this repeatedly, enlarging the bite marks and bloodying her teeth. She groaned, _It has to be over soon, it has to be over soon..._

"Ahgh!" A frustrated groan and a metallic click from the other side of the door, "Amara, stop!" The door opened to reveal the blue eyed man, who tied her up and made her ride in the dark. He advanced toward her, grabbing for her arms.

Amara screamed as her wrists were pried from her, "No..!" He forced her to stand up, "...Nooo...! ... _Let_...me die! I want...to _diiiieee_!" She hyperventilated again as he spoke to his companion, who Amara refused to look in the eyes. _You can't be real, you're not real…!_

"Let's hope love is blind," He paused, trying to keep Amara's arms from her face, "Or at least deaf."

* * *

Things were silent in the hours that followed, and her captors had retied her wrists in front of her this time. Although, the ropes still scratched irritatingly against her skin, so she would fumble with them, at the very least trying to loosen them.

This was when her second set of visitors came to see her.

The first was a young woman with long, dark hair and caramel colored skin. She didn't attempt to make conversation with Amara when she stood in the doorway, and Amara was more than willing to return the favor. Those dark green eyes were solely focused on her, as if she were studying. She was as uninterested in being the first to break the silence as Amara was, but there was something very _wrong_ in her actions.

Every time Amara's eyes flickered toward her, she never even gave a remote sign of being _acknowledged_. Perhaps she was the more stoic type, but even so, she acted like Amara was looking right through her. But her face was so devoid of emotion, it has hard for Amara to completely decipher her new supervisor.

Minutes later, a younger man showed his face. He had chestnut hair and eyes like Amara did, but unlike herself, he had a child-like face and youth in his eyes that his companion did not possess. He seemed like the direct foil for his companion, actually, she had a deep sadness in her eyes and a face that seemed used to frowning.

"How's our mental patient doing?" He inquired of her, keeping his voice low.

"I guess all those years alone finally sent her over the edge," the emotionless one explained calmly, maybe even with something reminiscent of sympathy.

The younger man turned to Amara for the first time since his arrival, and approached her with something in his hands. Amara involuntarily flinched, as she eyed him warily.

"Relax," He told her, noticing her fidgety movements. He spoke in the same non-startling tone "I'm- I'm just bringing dinner..."

Amara watched him carefully put down the supper plate in front of her...that was right, she wasn't immortal anymore so blood would no longer be able sustain her hunger. That mattered very little to her at the moment, she had no need for it. This boy...he looked so familiar, she thought. "I know you," she decided, saying aloud the young man, who looked surprised that she was speaking to him, albeit unconvinced at her words.

"I don't think so," he shook his head and moved his hands to hers to undo the ropes on her wrists. This time, she wouldn't struggle against him. There were too many unanswered questions, and there were two people here who might provide answers for the first time in two days.

"You're the hunter," she explained, causing him to stare at her oddly. She added softly, "I never forget a face..." If she recalled correctly, he was Qetsiyah's hunters as well as a medium not unlike the abilities she possessed. There was no way she could have forgotten someone like him, he was so...human compared to everyone else who had ever passed through her onto the Other Side.

Now the silent companion stared at her as well, "...But Silas killed you." The two shifted, "You're _dead_..." Amara eyed the hunter questioningly. Yes, she knew that as well. Whenever someone passed on, she had always felt it...she was put directly into the mindset of that person, feeling the exact pain of their last moments in silence. For this young man, she knew he had been drained of his blood by the man she used to call her lover.

"I was," He answered her, affirming her suspicions, "I came back."

Amara glanced away from him, staring at the stone floor as she let her train of thought flow about this new information. _Impossible_ , was her immediate first thought, _Even the undead know to stay dead when their time is up, not a single soul can escape it as simply as you say._

She blinked slowly in questioning, "How?" she asked.

The hunter never took his eyes off of her, yet his silence persisted.

"I said _how_?" She turned her face towards him again, looking into his eyes. He remained silent, though she knew it was in vain. Somehow, those young eyes told her everything, the story of loss and pain. She knew it all _too_ well...which is why her eyes shifted to his companion as she started to interrogate her. "It was you, wasn't it? You're a witch. You brought him back."

It made sense. She was Qetsiyah's _direct_ descendant, come from a long line of powerful witches who had inherited her abilities ever since her passing. Her _ancestors_ had passed through Amara long before her time, so this revelation was a very strong possibility.

The witch's eyes widened in a combination of acknowledgement and shock. "You can see me?" She asked just as calmly as Amara did, although her face suggested otherwise.

"Of course I can see you, I'm not _blind_ ," Amara smiled awkwardly, not really understanding why this was so shocking to her, "I have eyes."

The witch stared down at the floor nervously, and the hunter turned his head frantically looking between the two women. A sense of dread ate at Amara as she slowly realized her mistake.

"Or are you dead...?" She spoke to the witch again, shaking her head and in some kind of attempt of an apology, sadly whispered, "I get so mixed up, I can't tell the difference between the living or the dead..." Her eyes darted to each of the cellar walls.

"Can you _see_ people on the Other Side?" The hunter's voice rose on a tone of inquiry, probably wondering if she was a medium as well. He had once been like her, he was likely thinking, seeing certain individuals that no normal person would have seen otherwise. But _he_ was one of Qetsiyah's hunters...

"I am the _anchor_ to the Other Side," Amara admitted shamefully, earning a concerned stare from the hunter. "I can see _everything_...!" Her voice broke off in a humiliated sob. She turned her face away from them, losing her will in trying so desperately to hold herself together...when it was made clearly obvious that she was far too damaged for a simple conversation. Her breath hitched in her throat, it was _terribly_ unfair but...so was running off with a man promised to another...

That familiar regret came bubbling up and she wanted nothing more than curl in on herself.

She turned back her head just in time to feel the witch softly brush her fingers against Amara's shoulder. Amara gasped, " _Don't touch me!_ " The hand was immediately retracted, eyes widened in surprise. The anchor tried to calm herself down when she realized she basically _yelled_ at her, when this whole time she and her hunter companion had been something reminiscent of considerate to her, "Please _don't_ -" She shook her head, "-don't touch me..."

"I can touch her..." The witch whispered, astonished.

"Okay..." The hunter remarked, "That's weird..."

Amara struggled to catch her breath, to _stop_ trembling...

"Jer...I think I've got an idea..."

* * *

It had neared nightfall when her last visitor came to see her, and probably the worst one yet.

Amara's captors had tied her to a chair in preparation for this, but whether that was the decision of her visitor or the blue eyed man (who seemed to be the mastermind behind her capture) she didn't know. The hunter and the witch wouldn't answer any more of Amara's questions, and the blue eyed man and his companion (who wore the face of the man she currently loved and hated the most at the moment) hadn't spoken to her since retying her ropes the first time.

And the other girl, Amara thought, _She...she had my face...She must be my shadow self, she can no longer part of my imagination..._ It had scared her, upon their first meeting. It hadn't been natural, seeing her own face in the world of the living staring back at her on its own like a vivid reflection in a mirror. Upon her imprisonment in this cellar, she had remembered seeing visions much like her. Women who'd shared that face, stolen from her, that Amara had written them off as illusions of her shattered mind.

One stabbed through the heart on the end of a jilted blade. One drained of blood at the hands of an immortal creature that survived off it. One neck snapped, dangling from a rope at her own hands to escape a fate likely worse. One drowned in a river, veered off the road upon her attempt to return home. *****

The first two she had _certainly_ felt as real deaths, the souls of what she now understood were her doppelgängers passing through the original onto a supernatural limbo. The last two weren't as terribly clear. She remembered feeling them, but she didn't think they had ever _passed_ through her.

Amara was unsure how much her doppelgängers knew about her. _But if she hates me...and I would hate me as well..._

And the blue eyed man's companion...he must be Silas' doppelgänger as well... _They must truly hate us...hate me...for the misery we've caused after all._

Even as she came to this conclusion, Amara had already decided. Everything the doppelgangers had done, or would do from then on...Amara had no one but herself to blame for it. _I, the one who spit in the face of mortality, am the one who started this circle of despair._

For the third time that day, the cellar door screeched open, the rusted metal creaking in protest, to reveal the last person Amara wanted to see.

It was Qetsiyah, with Amara's doppelgänger in tow. Qetsiyah stared at Amara, and for a second, her eyes flickered with excitement at seeing Amara in her shameful display, even as her face betrayed no visible emotion otherwise. The doppelgänger said nothing as she led her in and gestured toward Amara, as if she had been gift wrapped specifically for the sorceress herself.

"That'll be all," said Qetsiyah, shooing the doppelgänger away as she stepped inside and closed the door behind her. Amara cringed, remembering the same coldness Qetsiyah used whenever she ordered her servants around, the tone she used just now to spite Amara.

Amara paid especially close attention after the cellar door was shut. The doppelgänger hadn't left, but remained outside the door, listening in on the both of them, she realized. For a split second, Amara hoped the door would reopen, the doppelgänger refusing to leave her alone with Qetsiyah even for a moment. The door didn't reopen, but the doppelgänger didn't move from the door either. _What's going through her mind right now, I wonder?_

Qetsiyah kept her eyes on Amara from the moment she walked in through the door, smiling to Amara's surprise.

"Well, if it isn't the face that launched a thousand doppelgängers?" The sorceress greeted the handmaiden in a low, angry voice. She stepped closer to Amara and bent over slowly so she was leveled with Amara's face.

"A little birdie told me you aren't enjoying your immortal life." Now she sounded all too friendly, and all too joyful at Amara's expense. _Is this who you are now "friend"? Or was the whole delusion of friendship another one of your games in the first place?_

Amara turned her head away from that mocking, _remorseless_ gaze, but Qetsiyah grabbed her chin forcefully and immediately turned her back to meet her eyes. Her fingernails dug into Amara's skin, and fingers cruelly tightening around her jawline.

"Two thousand years, and you have _nothing_ to say to me?! No apology?" She was really angry now, Amara guessed it was because she didn't already invoke a reaction from Amara. Truth be told, Amara really didn't have anything to say to her former mistress, nothing that could possibly begin to make up for two millenniums worth for what she had done to her. The time for apologies had come far too late, and she knew there was no hope of forgiveness even if she did. A small part of her almost foolishly hoped her silence would be what got her doppelgänger to intervene, getting Qetsiyah as far from her as humanly possible.

She just wanted _this_ ugly story to come to its bitter, tragic end. Though she knew of only one way she could do that.

"...I'm sorry..."

"What was that?" _Liar, you heard me clearly...Just end this._

"I'm sorry..." There was only a bit more conviction in this, and a bit more shakiness.

"Oh..." _Just "oh"?_

"That's what you want to hear, isn't it...? How I _suffered_...how every moment of my life has been a living hell?! It _has_!" Qetsiyah smirked at the reaction, but Amara had no problem nor shame in indulging the her former mistress a bit longer, if only to ask what she really wanted..."My sin was falling in love, and I've learned my lesson. You win. You _won_. Now please kill me. Please. Please kill me!"

There was a pause here, as Qetsiyah studied the handmaiden intently before speaking again. Odd, it must have been taken nothing but immense satisfaction thus far in watching Amara plead so pathetically, so _desperately_ , after two thousand years of an angry afterlife...what had suddenly changed? "Don't worry," she said, and without skipping a beat, continued, "When I make someone else the anchor, I _will_."

That was all that needed to be said, that was all Amara needed to hear. Qetsiyah was one that always kept her word, and she knew that killing her was a satisfaction that Qetsiyah wanted personally. That alone was more than enough to satisfy the former handmaiden. It let her breathe easier for the first time in days.

But there was no sympathy for the damned.

"And since you're _nothing_ more than a non-supernatural human, _you'll_ pass on while Silas is trapped on the Other Side. And then you and Silas? You're gonna spend eternity _apart_."

Amara could no longer find the strength to look into dark hate-filled eyes anymore. She had already feigned the bravery she had just to complete a sentence in front of her. And that final jab had broken her already shattered spirit, and she could feel herself starting to cry as tears threatened to fall right then and there. _Oh, Silas_... _what have we become?_

"And that," Qetsiyah condescended, "Is gonna be kind of _fantastic_...for _me_." Amara's eyes involuntarily flickered back to the witch, and she shrugged malevolently, "Selfishly speaking."

* * *

An hour and a half later, they had began the ritual for handing Amara's supernatural status to the dead witch she had met earlier.

Amara's doppelgänger had been the one to get her and explained the gist of the ritual. And much to Amara's shock, the doppelgänger was actually kind to her, gently untying her wrists, asking her if she was alright, and after talking, escorted her quietly to the drawing room.

"For the record, I am sorry," she had said to her, "For putting you in that cell, and for how you were treated since you...came back." She appeared unsure, it was like she was trying to tread carefully through thin ice, speaking to Amara. Like she feared her predecessor would shatter at the slightest touch. She shook her head, "And, I'm really sorry for scaring you earlier...My name is Elena."

Amara bowed her head lightly, showing that she appreciated her kindness at the moment. It crossed her mind that it had been an act, that Elena had attempted to be decent to her. Though if it was an act, it was a very good one. It begged the question, was she the one that absconded death for five _centuries_? Or the one that had for three years?

Amara had a much better look at her doppelganger now, and she theorized that it was the latter. She looked like she belonged in this time frame, despite the rather _odd_ choice in wardrobe. Were her legs not _cold_ , being so lengthy and overexposed like they were? From the cool confidence in her strides, and braver outlook, Amara supposed she really had no place to judge what her descendant wore.

 _She talks to me like a small child_ , Amara observed, _But I cannot say I am surprised...how must I seem to someone like her?_ Elena shared the same face Amara used to hide shyly beneath her veil in fear, and yet it looked so mature on her.

It seemed, at the very least, that Elena didn't harbor any resentment toward her. Amara wanted to believe that, but she really could not assign blame to her if she were lying. Though she'd happily accept the lie for now, because the looks of hatred she'd received from the dead and her former mistress was more than she could bear.

Amara didn't want to imagine seeing it on her _own_ face.

"Alright," Elena said upon entering the drawing room, "We're here."

Inside the room, Qetsiyah was standing in front of a small table, as was another woman who turned at Elena and Amara in clear annoyance.

It was another one of Amara's doppelgängers. This one had a mass of messy curls that fell elegantly past her shoulders. She was wearing a long sleeved black shirt that was cut off at the elbows, and Amara didn't think she'd ever get used to the sight of someone who looked like her in _trousers_.

"Took you the hell long enough," She immediately reprimanded Elena harshly, before giving Amara a brief, indifferent glance over, "And they say the original is always better." She crinkled her nose in what seemed like vague disgust at her attire, "Though I guess you can't help that, being _ancient_ and all."

"Oh, don't be a giant bummer," Elena replied, "You're not exactly at the prime of your youth either, Katherine."

 _I see. So Katherine was the one who lived for five centuries…_

Katherine's eyes held a flicker of anger even as she smiled bittersweetly at Elena, "And yet, cupcake, it's like you think I still won't stab you in the eyes with my _heels_."

"Shut the hell up," Qetsiyah snapped, causing Amara to flinch and Katherine to stop talking. "You want the spell done? Stop dawdling and take your damn places."

Amara looked over at Elena, who looked back at her with assurance and placed her hand on Amara's shoulder in a comforting gesture. Elena stepped toward the table, as did Amara by her side. Once the girls were gathered around, Qetsiyah pulled out a book and opened it so that its contents were on display for the doppelgängers.

"What is that?" Amara asked.

"It's Bonnie's grimoire," Elena calmly explained to her.

"Grim- what?"

"It's a magic spell book," Katherine elaborated coldly before Elena could respond. She rolled her eyes and she muttered under her breath, "Idiot." Which earned an insulted look from her predecessor.

"It's a _talisman_ ," Qetsiyah commented, unimpressed with Katherine's answer, "Since Bonnie can't be here, her grimoire will have to do." She made a small gesture toward the book, "Hands in, palms up." She demanded.

There was a short lived moment of silence as the doppelgängers shared a three way glance with each other, unsure of who should go first. It was a rare moment in which Amara truly felt a connection with them, their bloodlines having been intertwined by a twisted yet carefully controlled fate that allowed them to even _exist_ in the same room. Despite the centuries between them, they were _here_.

Amara only thought it fair as the originator of their lineage to be the first to offer her blood in order to _end_ this. She extended her arm shyly, but Qetsiyah impatiently snatched her wrist and sliced her palm. She gasped at the sudden action.

"Sorry, love," Qetsiyah feigned concern, "Did that hurt?"

Amara turned her palm over and let her blood drip on the pages stained a faded gold with age. "I've been through worse." Her eyes flickered toward Qetsiyah without that hint of fear faltering her action.

Elena looked at Amara with concern evident in those doe brown eyes, though Amara couldn't fathom why that was.

" _Easy_ , okay?" Katherine interjected warningly to the sorceress. "I'm fragile these days." She dramatically extended her hand.

Qetsiyah rolled her eyes, annoyed, and held the knife in front of her, facing down toward the book. Katherine gripped the blade and _squeezed_ hard, blood dripped from the blade and leaving a large, ugly gash on her hand. She pulled her hand away after a satisfactory amount of blood landed on the paper, clutching her wounded hand.

Elena seemed the most confident in stretching her hand out. Qetsiyah quickly punctured it with the tip of the blade. Smiling still, Elena turned her hand over towards the paper and looked over at Katherine mockingly.

"Show-off," Katherine grumbled.

As soon as Elena finished, Qetsiyah started chanting and the candle lights brightened with intensity in tandem. The blood on the paper started to move and coil around the middle, forming the Celtic symbol "trinity". The candles light became stronger until Qetsiyah stopped speaking, and they flickered out.

"No..."

"Is it done?" Katherine questioned.

"No, it's not _done_ ," Qetsiyah snarled back.

As if to confirm the worst case scenario, the windows flew open with a strong gust of wind. The ceiling lights imploded on themselves as the wind blew harder. Elena and Katherine showed no visible signs of shock, looking at the chaos about them as if it were a minor inconvenience. Amara, on the other hand, flinched at every unfamiliar sound and occurrence frightened at whatever was causing this.

"What is happening?!" Elena shouted over roaring winds to Tessa.

" _Silas_ is happening!" Qetsiyah shouted back before addressing the impending chaos, " _Show yourself, bastard!_ "

The moment those words were uttered, the last few lights blew out, engulfing the room in complete darkness. Before Amara could even think to call out for someone, she felt a pair of strong arms restrain her body as a large hand covered her mouth before her vision blurred and the drawing room went further and further from her view.

* * *

 **I have a headcanon that Qetsiyah's and Amara's relationship was reminiscent to the Salvatore brothers prior to Silas entering the picture. Like their interactions from what we've seen wasn't just the reaction of a mistress and servant who frolicked with the fiance. It was genuine anger and betrayal that Qetsiyah had portrayed, at someone who she very much felt hurt being betrayed by. She even said Amara was "very close to her". And it didn't seem like Amara had no clue what she was doing either, she was helping set up the garden for the** _ **wedding** **(**_ **I think** ** _)._ There was more to Amara's reasoning as to why she would run off with Silas (and betray her own Lady and mistress) than a simple "I felt like it".**

 **Perhaps I may write a one shot someday that reads more into it, and I already have plans for a fic where Amara was never immobilized and lived out the entirety of her two thousand years of immortality as well.**

 **But that's a story for another day. Amara is still very much my favorite character (besides Damon and others of course haha) and I'm nowhere near done with her as VD is. Please let me know what you guys thought about anything you've read, I am always open to input and suggestions! And I hope you have a wonderful day!**

 **-Goldy**

 *** Amara's reflecting over her previous doppelgängers' deaths in order (Doppelgänger number one is a headcanon, Tatia, Katherine as a human, and Elena as a human).**


	3. Love like a fire

**A/N: Hello all!**

 **Finally, finally here with chapter three where we can start getting into the fun stuff! Now this is a chapter I've revised the most from "The Alternate Destiny..." mostly concerning Damon and Elena's dialogue and POV's so it makes more sense as to why they'd want to convince Amara to stay alive (aside from ensuring Bonnie's return). After this, the story goes pretty much graduates to canon divergent and depending on how I feel and what you guys think, it might start deviating from canon a little more so!**

 **With that being said, I have somewhat of a plan for it but of course nothing is completely set in stone. So I'd like to know what you guys think! What did you** ** _like_** **from Season 5? Which stuff would you rather I changed from Season 5? What shenanigans do you think our MF Gang plus Amara should get into? Either leave a comment or PM me, I'm all ears! ^^**

 **Anyway, on with the story!~**

* * *

When Amara came to, she realized they were somewhere in the woods. Silas' doppelgänger released her from his grasp (he was surprisingly gentle with her on the way here) momentarily and stood in front of her with his back turned to her. His right hand was holding something against his ear, but she couldn't quite make out what it was. It was dark after all, and after two thousand years of living in the dark, he was the one with the advantage. _I can't run away, can't run, he'd find me stumbling in the dark..._

" _Sucky timing, Stefan._ "

She heard a voice coming from the device that she probably wouldn't have heard if not for her advanced hearing. Silas was speaking to the doppl- or rather, Stefan, as it seemed he called her current abductor. She continued listening to the conversation as she hastily observed their surroundings.

"I disagree," Stefan informed him emotionlessly, "I have Amara just beyond the property line. You have ten minutes to come find us."

" _Well, I'm a little busy right now watching my nemesis bite it._ " Silas filled him in, " _Plus, I have no interest in saving Amara's life._ " His voice grew cold at mentioning her name.

Amara flinched. She hadn't nearly expected those words to cut her so deeply, coming from Silas.

She wasn't an _idiot_ , she had heard rumors of Silas from the dead ever so often, and none of them ever spoke good on her...soulmate? Was she even _that_ to him anymore? She had initially refused to believe Silas would do such things...her sweet Silas who had only ever wished for them to have their own happy ending like the ones read in storybooks...

Until his one of his own victims, the _hunter_ , confirmed those terrible rumors with the announcement of Silas' return to the living. Her Silas…though she no longer knew if he was ever really _hers_ , had suffered through a different kind of hell for two thousand years. There was never a single moment in her life, or rather _un_ life, where she never thought of him...of how he might have been happier had she never crossed his path to begin with. If she had known her place then, if she had never entertained the _idea_ that someone so good and noble and breathtaking would give her a second glance then…

 _None_ of this would have ever happened...

"I know that," Stefan replied irritatedly, "Which is why I'm gonna take her away, and I'm gonna keep her alive by any means possible while everyone else hunts you down like an animal. You now have nine minutes."

He ended his conversation with Silas and put the communication device in the back pocket of his trousers.

Amara ended up being tied up and gagged again, with rope, against a tree a few feet from where they had previously stood. Stefan intended on leaving Amara as bait to lure out Silas while he lied in wait somewhere, it seemed. He had left a while ago, and she had not heard a sound from him since, so she assumed he was pretty far away.

She was left alone.

She didn't know what the peridot eyed double was planning, and she wasn't entirely sure if Silas would risk coming to negotiate with him. If the doppelganger made good on his promise to whisk her away, Amara didn't think she could take it. There was nothing that she had wanted more than her pitiful existence to end and he had to be aware of that by now. So what lengths would he possibly willing to go in order for her to live another minute?

Another hour? Another day? Another _year_?

That thought alone had her _very_ much afraid now. Afraid of what would happen if Silas came, scared of what would happen if he refused, afraid of every creeping noise and snapping twig from the woods surrounding her...

All of her frantic, jumbled deliberations were put to rest when she heard the sound of footsteps approaching her. The owner of the footsteps stopped in front of her and looked her over. The owner seemed like he almost didn't recognize her until she looked him in the eyes.

"Amara..." Silas breathed out, relieved. His hand immediately went to her wrists, undoing the knots on the ropes binding her hands. Once he loosened the rope, he pulled the gag off her mouth. She gasped for air, and he rested his palm against the side of her face. She stared at his face for a moment returning the gesture, taking his face in her own hands.

"I loved you," She sobbed, even as she tried to tried to hold him just once more, and be the one who was comforting him. She couldn't bear the look of pain on her love's face, "I _still_ do..." _The one thing that will never change no matter how many years pass us by_..."But I can't live...any longer. Please understand...?" _I'm sorry...I'm sorry that I couldn't save you…I'm not strong enough to do anything..._

The silence, and the utter devastation on Silas' face broke her heart all over again. She closed her eyes, crying for him, and crying for herself as she put her forehead against his. His thumbs rested against her chin for a few moments, and he pulled back so he could look at her face.

"I understand."

She opened her eyes and looked up at him meekly. He searched her face in sympathy and despairing tenderness.

"I love you." She blinked back at him, and nodded in understanding...Her hands fell against his shoulders as he reached for something in his pocket. His other hand fell against Amara's neck as the object in his right hand clicked.

Silas angled the knife at her throat. She looked at his face, for possibly the last time, and closed her eyes. She was ready for it all to be over. She heard Silas's unsteady breathing and opened her eyes when the knife made no contact with her skin. Her heart ached at the despair in his eyes.

Silas truly loved her. She had made her peace knowing that.

"Silas, _please_ ," She whispered pleadingly as he shook his head. "I'm ready."

Silas looked pained and groaned as he forced the knife against Amara's neck. It successfully made a cut and blood had already started trickling down her throat. Her breathing finally calmed down, and Silas closed his eyes preparing to finish this for real.

In an instant, he was forcefully pulled back away from her and throw against a nearby tree. He was held up by his neck, courtesy of his attacker. Before Amara could register what had happened, she heard Stefan's voice.

"Do you remember me?" Stefan infuriatingly questioned the warlock who was growing limp in his grasp as he forced him upward, "I remember _you_." Amara heard Silas groaning, "Oh, I'm sorry, is it hard to breathe?" She could hear Stefan apply more pressure on Silas' neck, "Is your throat closing? Did the fear of dying start to creep in yet?"

Within a few seconds, she heard Silas being released from his hold and the sound of someone stumbling backwards and groaning painfully. Her hands rushed to her sides and struggled to undo the rope holding her waist against the tree. She needed to get involved before someone got hurt.

"I hear every emotion is heightened for a vampire," Silas retorted angrily, "All those memories must be eating you alive right now, Stefan. What's it like to die? I've never done it. You've must have done it a thousand times over this summer."

"Stop it!"

" _Stop_? I've spent two thousand years alone in a tomb. You were locked for what? Three months? Look at you! You're a mess. The safe was the easy part, wasn't it? Being forgotten about, that's the _real_ torture isn't it?"

Amara got the ropes off just in time to witness Stefan look over to find the knife next to him. He grabbed it and threw it directly into Silas' chest.

"Silas!" She cried out. She ran over when Silas slumped down against the tree and his head fell against his shoulders.

Amara immediately felt it.

The feeling of her entire body being ripped apart from the inside, not unlike the knife that had taken Silas from this world. The feeling she got when a soul passed through her, reliving every millisecond of the pure pain of the grim reaper's beckoning...and she was forever stuck only feeling the brief touch of its fingertips...

She doubled over in excruciating pain, crying out until it left her body as quickly as it had come.

She heard the sounds of Silas's doppelgänger stumble over and pass out on the ground, but she didn't dare attempt to catch a glimpse over at him. He wasn't important to her now. She kept her eyes solely of her tormented love, who had been cruelly snatched from her grasp when she was supposed to be the one who died. She slowly stepped forward and kneeled in front of him.

Amara gazed at him with the same sympathy and love that he had when she pulled the knife from his chest. Her eyes flickered toward the knife for a few seconds before looking back at Silas. She put her hand against his face, and smiled reassuringly.

"Our eternity starts now."

She turned the blade toward her chest and took in her last breaths before she-

" _No_!"

She barely had time to think before the knife went flying out of her hands and she was pinned to the ground by a pair strong arms. She looked to where the knife had flown in sheer panic before she looked at whoever had stopped her- and she froze.

"What the hell do you think you're doing?!" It was the blue eyed man from earlier who had stopped her, the last person she could've possibly expected.

"Let go of me!" Amara tried to struggle out of her captor's grasp, the latter finding her rather difficult to keep in place when she was kicking and screaming at him. Her head turned to the direction of the knife. "Let go of me right now! Let go!"

" _Amara_!" The blue eyed man shouted to get her to stop, in a more rational state of mind she would have noted that it was one of the rare times he used her name, "Amara, stop!" He was pinning her so she wouldn't try to go back for it. She tried to push him off of her, but it was like trying to push off a starving lion, stronger and more determined than her. Her hands slamming against him was little more than having a kitten swipe at him after its claws have been filed down. He wasn't letting her move another inch. He wouldn't just let her go.

She punched the ground floor with one of her free fists in utter defeat and turned her face to the side, the knife was too far from her reach and her dream of death seemed more like a distant fantasy.

There was no way he was going to give her what she wanted now.

" _Why_...? Why won't you just let me _die_...?"

She was wrong. It seemed like she still had some tears left to shed after all...

"Hey, look at me," He said, moving his hand to her face, brushing the hair sticking against her face.

"I've been in hell for two thousand years..." She told him, sobbing.

"What's five more minutes?" He smiled nervously and shook her shoulder, "Hey."

"...Stop pretending like you care," She looked back at him with downhearted eyes, "You don't, I _know_ you don't. You brought me here for someone else, you _have_ someone else to care for…I have nothing." She shook her head softly, "I have no one…not anymore."

He narrowed his eyes at her words, turning his body to look behind him...where Silas was lying dead.

"Dammit…"

 _Do you understand now?_ "If you had ever felt despair that ran as deep as mine…then the mere thought of taking another breath you knew you didn't deserve would be difficult as well. I _can't_...live in your world, not after what I've lost…what I've thrown away to live forever..."

There was a moment where she could have sworn she saw the tiniest little flicker of empathy across her captors face. But just as quickly, those sympathetic blue eyes turned to ice and she desperately wished she had stopped talking earlier.

"Maybe... but I'm _not_ going to let you die, Amara. I won't and do you want to know why? You're right, I _do_ have someone. And I would give up the whole damn world up for her in a heartbeat, everyone else be damned. But you're _wrong_ when you tell me I've never felt that kind of despair...

"I may not have lived two millenniums, but dammit, I've lived _far_ longer than I had any right to...I've watched anyone who I've given more than a singular damn about kick the bucket or stab me in the back. I've watched my own brother nearly lose himself over and over again to his dark side, yet he still refuses to put himself before someone like his asshole brother. And I've seen just about everyone else look at me with this pitying, self righteous look in their eyes as if I were the one advocating for the devil. And I let them because it's not like they've got the wrong idea!"

He let out a deep exhale, as if his short tangent had knocked the wind out of him, before he spoke again in a more hushed tone, "I've can go on quite a bit on how it's been a supremely crappy century, but you know what? Despite all the crying, hatred, and overall bullshit, I'm glad I'm here for my stupid, selfless brother and my girl because _they're_ the ones who tie me to my humanity and I'm not going to abandon them now."

"I told you, I _don't_ have anyone like that-"

The way he was looking at her, determined, pleading, despairing, confused her and made her want to cry all over again, because it was a look she only knew too keenly.

"Your immortality wasn't all it was cracked up to be, believe me, I know. But I am _begging_ you... _please_ , at least don't throw it away tonight. Just a couple more hours, I promise, and I won't interfere in your life anymore."

Amara was stunned, to say the least. No one had ever cared whether or not she lived, besides Silas. And she knew he was telling her the truth, otherwise he wouldn't be looking at her like _that_.

She didn't want to fight with him anymore, she was just too _tired_. Tired from crying, tired from struggling, tired from running, tired from _everything_.

"...I think..." She pulled one of her freed arms away so she can wipe her face with the back of her hand, "I want to go back now."

That was all she had to say.

The blue eyed man got off of her and stood up. He offered his hand to help her up and she meekly took it, wobbling as she stood up. Seeing this, of course, her companion bent over and picked her up with both arms.

She was so exhausted that she just rested her head against his shoulder. She held on to him and let him carry her back as she drifted off in his gentle arms.

* * *

 _"Please tell me this is real."_

 _"You guys can see me?"_

 _"Bonnie, it worked."_

 _"It worked!"_

Damon could hear the commotion going inside on his way to the front door. That was definitely Jeremy, Caroline, and Elena speaking inside. And the fourth person could only be...He smirked towards the starlit sky. _Well I'll be damned, it actually worked._ He looked at Amara, who had passed out on his shoulder, silently thanking her for making this possible, but immediately frowned. With this, she had fulfilled her end of their promise...

 _"You're here!_

 _"Thank you."_

 _"Oh my god, oh my god! And we can be roommates, 'cause we have that extra bed, and we can clear out half the closet–"_

 _"Caroline!"_

 _"I'm sorry, I just—I can't believe you're really here!"_

 _"I'm here. I'm back."_

Damon paused and decided to pursue another way in, he didn't want to be the reality check of Stefan's descent into madness, nor his own scuffle with the girl he currently carried in his arms. Elena needed to be with Bonnie now, they all did really.

Besides, he could welcome the little witch back to the world of the living in his own time, he didn't need to intrude on someone else's.

It wasn't difficult to find his bedroom window, it looked like it was already knocked open thanks to the earlier madness that had gone down inside. He got a running start and leaped upwards until his foot made contact with his windowsill. He made sure to be especially careful to maneuver the girl in his arms inside, he set one foot on the floor and then the other.

He sighed out in relief, and stepped softly towards his bed. He laid Amara down on his mattress.

"I thought she was too crazy for you."

Damon turned slightly to face the door to see his girlfriend leaning against the doorway with an overall calmed expression, though he could see apprehension in her eyes when she saw Amara's unconscious form on their bed.

"And I thought you were downstairs with Bon-Bon and company," He retaliated, as composed as she was. The whole point of him sneaking through the window was to let her have that moment with her friends, after all.

"Caroline went to clear our bed for her, but she's staying the night with Jeremy here so I can talk to her in the morning."

"Hmm."

"Your turn."

"She nearly shish-kabobed herself, so I had to step in and strap on Stefan's hero hair."

Elena smiled teasingly, "And who says you're not Superman again?"

Damon snorted, and Elena's gaze suddenly turned into one of concern, "What happened with Stefan?"

Damon had to remind himself that she was _not_ asking that out of the universe's inherent need to screw him over with the so-called doppelganger love bond. "He killed Silas," He explained, "He took Amara to lure him out, and then he killed him."

"Oh my god. I can't say I'm not particularly sad to hear he's gone but…" She ran a hand through wavy chestnut hair, " _Goddammit_ , Stefan...well, I guess that explains Tessa."

"Why, what happened with her?"

"She pulled the same thing Amara did, only she _succeeded_. Katherine's the one who found her."

"You're kidding," Damon frowned at that. It was odd that Qetsiyah had departed from this world without attempting to make good on her own promise of ending Amara's now human life, as she was so passionate to revel in her misfortune earlier. Maybe she figured Amara was collateral damage at this point and didn't really care what happened to her. Silas was dead and as Amara was only the progenitor of her doppelganger lineage, she would not be reunited with him on the Other Side anyway.

Not that Damon was complaining. He had watched Amara attempt to kill herself numerous times within the first day he's known her, he had no desire to watch _her_ succeed.

"Yeah," Elena gave a glance over towards her ancestor, and her eyes softened. It looked like she wanted to comment on it, but it looked like she was hesitating. She averted her gaze for a moment, Damon had known her long enough to know that her reaction had nothing to do with any jealous feeling nor awkwardness she might have felt at seeing Amara with him. On the contrary, it seemed like something akin to _guilt_...and he would have commented on it right there but she spoke again.

"...We'll let Amara take our bed for now, and in the meantime, I'm going to have a word with your _brother_."

"I'm sure he _never_ gets tired of those."

Elena gave him a pointed look, but he knew there was no real bite to it. Ultimately deciding not to dignify his words with a response, her glare dissapeared, replaced with maturity in her eyes that had only ever become stronger since she's become a vampire. She stepped over to him and squeezed his shoulder.

"Take care of her, okay?"

* * *

"Well, _that_ could've gone so much better."

"Remind me _exactly_ why you followed me again when you were supposed to be watching Amara?"

"Because much like you, I was not convinced that killing Silas would make Stefan's…"

"...Tendencies to manslaughter disappear?"

"I was just going to say 'grievances', but same concept I guess." Elena rolled her eyes in response, "Besides, Amara's out like a light, and Bonnie and Jeremy are here, so she's not in any _real_ danger."

Once the two were in the foyer, Elena put her hands on her hips with a disappointed sigh. "She was today...we really screwed up. Monumentally so. And now he's gone off and killed Silas, and who knows how much this has traumatized Amara? Dammit..." She sat down on the couch with one of her hands resting on her forehead. Damon took the seat next to her.

"She listened to me," He reminded her, "When I asked her to stay alive tonight."

At that, Elena turned her head slightly towards him. She took one of his hands and gripped it gently. "A success in yet another day marred by failure...You did good, Damon. And I'm proud of what you did for Amara. I just wish I could have followed your example tonight." She smiled nervously.

Damon overturned his hand so that his fingers were intertwined with hers. "I know you're worried about him. And you're right, we did fail him over the summer- thank you _so_ much for reminding him of that by the way-" Elena snorted and rolled her eyes in response, "But at this point, I'm not really sure if we _can_ help him."

There was a pause, and then Elena said, "I know...and that's what scares me...We're the worst."

Another pause for silence, another wordless comfort at the touch of their hands.

"Should we attempt Round 2 on him tomorrow?"

"I guess we're welcome to try, but I'm not sure how much good it'll do."

"Is that a yes?"

"That was an 'As you wish'."

Elena scratched the side of her head, "Alright then, now that we've got that covered, on to the next order of business: What are we gonna do about Amara now?"

"That, right there, is the conundrum," Damon put both his hands on his knees with heavy exasperation, "I promised her I wouldn't ask any more of her if she stayed alive for the duration of the night. And correct me if I'm wrong, but weren't you the one who implied that Amara's life was forfeit after Bonnie became the anchor?"

Elena was going to ask when on earth she could have implied _that_ concept, but immediately stopped herself, already knowing the answer. He meant when she had suggested that Tessa do the anchor swap... _Silas wants Amara to die, Amara wants Amara to die, so who besides us is the one person with the biggest stake against letting that happen?_

 _Yep_ , she thought, _I did say that, didn't I?_ At that point in time, she knew that Tessa would not let Amara die as long as she was the anchor. But she remembered when she overheard Tessa talk to Amara. She would make Bonnie the anchor, but after _that_? She would have killed Amara without a single shred of remorse if they let her.

"I _didn't_...mean it like that..." She responded to Damon's inquiry,"...I was concerned about Bonnie coming back. I wasn't thinking about what would happen to Amara-"

"You know what, no," Elena shook her head, "I take that back. I knew perfectly well what would have happened to her- either Silas or Tessa would have killed her, or she would have taken her own life- " She looked at the floor, running her hand through her hair, "I guess I just...maybe I thought it'd be easy to let her die because I didn't _really_ know her and that's what she wanted anyway…"

It had nothing to do with the fact that she shared her face. There was no way she was that petty, right? The situations were under entirely different circumstances anyway.

Katherine practically prided herself in her "evil twin" act, doing anything and everything she could to make Elena and her friends miserable whenever the opportunity presented itself. And she was seemingly given every chance to set herself above that, and do something good. It was a damn shame, really. As an enemy there was no one she hated more, but even Elena could admit that when it came down to it, Katherine made a much better ally.

But she was ultimately certain that Katherine would never put anyone's well being or cause above her own. That's why Elena can never fully bring herself to trust her.

Amara was a different case, she wasn't exactly what you would call evil. That much was clear whenever Elena caught a glimpse of her. For someone who was supposed to be "the other woman" in a two thousand year old love story gone wrong, she didn't really _act_ like it.

In fact, Elena didn't think anyone could _fake_ the kind of despair she saw in Amara's eyes. She was confused, scared, _human_ …and tied up and thrown in a small cell almost immediately after she had woken up.

 _Did anyone even_ try _to comfort her? Or ease her fears?_

 _Have I...honestly become that selfish? Where everyone else is collateral damage as long as I get what I want? Was I just going to go about tomorrow like nothing happened?_

"Damon, as cliche as it sounds, I want the people I care about to live long, happy lives for as long as possible."

"We've established that already-"

"And I'm willing to do a lot of things for that to happen. I can _live_ with being a vampire. I can _live_ with surviving off of blood for the rest of my life. But...I promised myself that I wouldn't abandon my humanity again. Being _that_ much more selfish, being that _heartless_ …it's a horrible combination for me, and I _can't_ be like that again." Elena chewed on her lip, pushing herself up. She looked back towards her boyfriend with a bittersweet expression, "If I ignore _this_ …if I turn my back on an innocent girl when she's hurting now, then what separates me from being _all_ those things?"

"Whoa, whoa, whoa," Damon stood up and gripped Elena's shoulders, understanding perfectly well what this tangent was leading towards, " _Slow_ your roll, Supergirl. Suicide Watch was one thing, but do you really think she wants full rehab now?"

"Maybe not, but we were the ones who dragged her into helping us bring Bonnie back. I'm only taking responsibility for that."

"And just how much responsibility do you plan to take for her, hmm? If two millenniums didn't mellow her out, I don't see how that's going to change within the morning."

"Damon," She put her hands on his forearms, and looked at him reassuringly, "I know I'm asking for the impossible. But I think if there's anything that's been well established in the time..., beating the odds is kind of our forte. Besides, two thousand years of her life were wasted in a storage box. She deserves another chance at a good _human_ life and I'm gonna give it to her."

* * *

 **A little bit of shameless advertising here, but if you like more Amara-related content, I have the fic "More than My Mistress" currently up which will be updated by the end of May! It explores on her, Qetsiyah, and Silas' backstories and delves into their relationships and how they end up coming together. I'd definitely consider it a spiritual predecessor for "The Price of Living" as well as any future stories I write with Amara. But of course it can be read as a separate entity. ^^**

 **So as far as this chapter goes! Consider Amara to be part of the Mystic Falls Gang! She's got quite an adventure ahead and of course there shall be consequences both pertaining to Amara's state of mind and of Stefan killing Silas, which I'll be further exploring as we go on.**

 **Obviously this chapter could use a tad more polish, but I really wanted to get this out again. ^^**

 **Until the next chapter!**

 **-Goldy**

 **EDIT 5/10/18: Made some minor edits and fixed Damon's POV so that it would flow more nicely.**


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